I Brought You In, I'm Going Out with You Baby
by The-Turducken-Affairs
Summary: These chicks are sassy, tough, and spitting nails. They're also going to die within the next 24 hours, but hell, neither of them ever were ones for turning tail when the world's about to burn. (Spoilers for 5x10 Abandon All Hope)


**Disclaimer: Supernatural ain't mine.**

**A/N: I know one of the genres says humor, but that doesn't mean that I'm not taking this situation seriously. Promise!**

**Every quote, as in **"something formatted like this" **is a word for word quote from the episode. The rest is my own writing about their headspaces and stuff.**

**Warning: In case you didn't realize, spoilers for 5x10. Also, a fair amount of swearing, but no f-bombs.**

* * *

**In Which Ellen Bemoans the Whole Goddamn Hunting Gig**

There's something to be said for giving your life for the cause. It's a major kick in the ass is what.

Sure, we're all a bunch of big, brave heroes, staring death in the face and spitting on the ashes of monsters. But that's as far as it goes, because we all seem to be forgetting one major downfall to this hunting gig. Everybody you love dies.

It's a guarantee, practically a binding contract, that the best hunters get to live in utter, blood drenched despair, watching as the people around them drop like flies and rot with the maggots.

And it doesn't help that we're a reclusive lot, because even though we play at being miserable bastards, a friend made is a part of the family and bound to that by your sappy, bleeding heart.

So it happens that more often than not, I want to kick Death in the balls and I'm finally getting that chance. See, the family is made up of some pretty big players in the Apocalypse and damn if I'm going to let them go hunt the devil without me.

Sam and Dean, Castiel (an angel, my god is this life sideways), Bobby, Goddammit Joanna Beth What the Hell are You Doing Here, and I are down for a war. Again.

* * *

**In Which Jo Almost Lives it Up, But Chickens out Instead**

So I'm here in this rat hole, Bobby's house and shit I ain't kidding when I call it that, and this might possibly be our last night on Earth. No biggie, just another day in the office. Except for the fact that, y'know it totally is a big deal and I've never been one for honest to god _dying_.

_(Let me tell you, I am shitting bricks as I speak, but thank god for liquid courage.) _

I've been hauling some of that piss Bobby calls alcohol (and it is nowhere near as good as Mom's stash back at the Roadhouse, but she sure won't be hearing me bring _that_ up tonight. That would imply that we're swapping last words or something, which we're totally not.) back and forth around this place and passing around more strong ones than even Dean can manage.

I'd say I'm getting high as a kite, except no one brought any of that type of good stuff (and why the hell not?), so instead, I guess I'll go with hammered.

So I'm totally hammered and I'm feeling a little delirious from all the smiling and partying it up, then remembering why we're partying it up and deciding to go back to drinking, and _hello can you say backlash_, when I see Dean.

That boy has got one fine ass… And he's also all good at heart and stuff, but I'm drunk, so at this point, I'm waxing poetry about whatever comes to mind first.

_Tis a fine, firm ass_

_Man do I want some of that_

_Goddamn I'm so drunk._

My whole life and no one's realized I'm a poet. But I digress. My point is, tomorrow is going to suck, so I might as well go on and test the metaphorical waters of Dean.

"Hey." I give him a nod and from there, I just watch those lips go.

We end up having a whole conversation (my standards on what counts as a conversation are significantly lowered as my blood toxicology numbers go up, let's just call it some sort of inverse math shit and move on) and I end it on a self-respecting note. Goddammit.

* * *

**In Which Ellen Counts off Reapers and Wishes she could Give Jo a Sick Note**

Well hell.

All of us split up, like all the good horror movies teach us to, and Cas has found us some reapers.

I'll count 'em up, judge it based on just how many spots Cas's eyes seem to fall to, and now we've got some intel.

Death's coming tonight. No doubt about it.

And that's the moment my heart sinks, because, and I knew this already (I'm no idiot and I don't turn away from reality), but Jo is standing right next to me and we're talking like hunters.

All I want to do is whisk Jo away, say, _Sorry, but Jo's got a tummy ache. See? This right here is a doctor's note._ And wave it all smugly in Sam and Dean's faces, hauling Jo away by the ear and lecturing her on her damn fool ideas.

Instead, I tell Jo to we better go meet up with the boys and listen to her steps following close behind me.

* * *

**In Which Jo Squares off Against Death, but Not **_**the Death**_

I'd just like to say one thing. I am a badass.

Ain't nobody messing with one of my own without me having something to say about it, as proven by me bravely (and totally not in an instinctive and shortsighted move because Dean's pretty much always on my radar and there was this growl coming right at him and- well.) saving Dean's hide.

So yeah, my attempt at saving Dean's life hurts. Like, a lot. Hurts like nothing I've ever felt and I imagine it might just be worse than brushing your teeth with nails instead of toothpaste, or breaking your hand on an iron bat, or even stubbing your toe in the middle of the night because you're too damn tired to turn on a light.

But hey, at least I can confidently say _no guts, no glory_ with authority.

Still, seriously, this hurts like a bitch.

* * *

**In Which Ellen Wishes She Could Panic like a Normal Mother, but Instead Takes Charge**

Jo's hurt. Jo's hurt. Jo's hurt. Jo's hurt.

Stop. Breathe. Okay.

"Gonna be alright." I promise her that and I can almost mean it. She's a fighter and we're a team of the best damn hunters around. We'll find a way.

So I patch her up and watch as the blood falls faster and faster. We have to move quick if Jo's going to last.

I'm asking Sam for help and listening to Dean talk to Bobby (and thank god for Bobby. That old kook always has a book lying around with just the right piece of lore.), when Dean can't answer a question and I step right on in.

And it's looking good, we've got all the pieces coming together, we'll make a plan, and then-

"Can we, uh, be realistic about this, please?"

* * *

**In Which Jo's Odds are Just as Good as They Were Ten Minutes Ago- Bad**

They say when you're about to die, your life flashes before your eyes.

It's kind of hard to have that sort of moment when your last minutes are focused on killing the devil and holding your guts in.

And that's really it, isn't it? I had these dreams my whole life. Daddy was a hunter and Mom owned a hunter's bar and I cut out all the extras so I could be a hunter too.

One day, Daddy walked out the door and never came back. Ten years and one big fight later, I'm walking out that same door and I'll never get the chance to come back either (on account that it went up in flames a solid two years ago, but symbolically too).

And in an equally technical and symbolic way, looks like Mom ain't going back any time soon.

I'm trying to be tough about it, trying to think about dying a hero, but Mom sure as _hell_ didn't raise a soft bellied idealist and I'm seeing this with pragmatic eyes.

Sure, I'm going out like a champ and giving a good chance to some of the other hunters that are sticking around to fight the good fight, but I'm going die just the same way as I was ten minutes ago. Painfully.

And do not even get me started on the whole dragging Mom down with me shit. I've got a good half a minute to live; I'm not touching that one with a ten foot pole.

I will say one thing though. It's kind of nice to feel the heavy weight of pain lift as I sink into my Mom's arms, almost certain that I can hear her saying, "I will always love you, baby."

* * *

**In Which Ellen Dies, but Not Before Her Whole World Falls Apart**

I always hated hunting. Hated what it took from a person even before I really lost anything myself.

I saw how it hollowed out Bill, how his back would curl in on itself and his eyes would scan past me for days, as the hunts kept happening. For a while, it got better when Jo was born, but then he seemed to find some sort of guilt in that too.

Always the sucker for punishment, Bill and all of the other goddamn hunters in this world. Take Sam and Dean- two fine young men if I ever did see any, yet, here they are, practically ready to slice their own guts open in the name of baseless guilt.

We all knew the risks.

_I _knew the risks and Jo still got in on this. I know she's itching to give it all up for a cause, find her happy ending by fighting for it, but this isn't it.

She never did get to try with Dean, see if they could work like Bill and I didn't.

Dean's got a sort of luckless luck to him. Knowing that Winchester curse, Jo probably would have died at some point by his side while Dean skirted along the danger and lived, which would have inevitably led to another untouchable rift between me and the Winchesters (until the next big catastrophe, say twenty years later or so when I'm too old to do anything but let my teeth fall out of my mouth in shock and try to raise a shriveled old fist at _them damn Winchesters_), but at least Jo would have got her chance.

Instead, we're in a hardware store surrounded by twine and nails, with Jo being the hero I never taught her to be.

And she says this is my last chance to treat her like an adult, but goddammit is it hard when she's gasping for air and bleeding all over my hands. I want to take away all the pain, but only death can do that.

Only thing left is to help Jo be the hunter she's always wanted to be all the way up till the end.

"Somebody's gotta let them in. Like you said, you're not moving. You got me, Jo. And you're right, this is important."

So in the end, I ignore the choked on cries of my daughter, grip a trigger in my hand, and hold her like I've done all my life.

I say, "I will always love you, baby."

And they may not be my last words, but those are the only ones that have ever mattered.

Then the world lights up for one last second before I bow out too.


End file.
